Before The Storm
by Hannibal-Necromancer97
Summary: Shepard never wanted to join the Alliance; too much violence, not enough free time. Then he meets Tali, a quarian on her pilgrimage. He longs to see her after she leaves, so he's going to have to hold up to joining. To serve humanity, for justice, for love. (Heavy AU. Set pre-ME1. ShepardxTali)
1. Shepard

Shepard was in a bind.

All of his closest friends were urging him to join the Alliance, but he had no intention to do so. Why should he? All that's out there to his understanding was rocks, dust, and a massive lack of oxygen. Sure, there were batarians, but those were pretty common out here in the Terminus Systems. He sighed. _If there's nothing to see, then I'm staying right here._

Returning to his lunch-a turkey and cheese sandwich-he couldn't help but hear a low rumbling. Looking around, nothing immediately looked like it could be making such a noise, so Shepard decided it must be an incoming ship.

He looked up and discovered he was partially right in his guess: There _was_ a ship, and it was _technically_ incoming, but it wasn't a human ship, or batarian for that matter, and was falling from the sky at an alarming rate-even granted it wasn't very large, fast nearly always meant hard.

In a panic, he got up and began to yell at everyone to get away. He'd seen once before what kind of damage a crash-landing could do, and it wasn't pretty. As the massive, out-of-control ball of circuits and metal spiraled downward, everyone was at minimum safe distance but Shepard himself, who had just started running.

But not fast enough.

The meteor of seared metal and roaring engines smashed against a nearby building. The sheer force of the impact was enough to cave the house in on itself, before the resulting blast propelled the thing apart. Shepard fell to his back, watching in horror as burning rubble and arcing shrapnel flew in all directions, spreading the damage like wildfire; crushing kiosks and small structures or ripping holes into the ground and destroying vehicles all around.

Then it was over. The town square he once thought so much of was now little more than ruins. He wasn't prepared for something like this, no one could be. So he simply crumpled, his mind completely shattered by the event that just occurred. He heard people flock around the site, muttering swears as infants and other small children wept. The roaring flame, crying children, and terror-ridden whispering were the last things Shepard heard before blacking out.

/-/

When he next awoke, Shepard was at the clinic. He heard a television, news of the crash playing from the speakers. Looking over, the footage that the program was running was showing real-time what had happened. _Huh,_ he thought. _It seemed like longer than two minutes…_

An orderly walked in, noticing that Shepard was conscious. "You've been out for some time, Mr. Shepard."

"How long?" he asked.

"About two hours," the medic replied. "You'll be happy to know that you're not going to die."

"Well, I guess that counts as good news."

"However…"

_Damn…_

"…Your mind's still a bit shaken by the experience, so you may be here a while longer. In the meantime, we're short on rooms because of…" he gestured to the news network, "Yeah. So, you'll be sharing your room while you're here."

"I don't mind."

"You may when you learn who you're sharing with." He stepped out of the way of an incoming gurney, which held a patient that must have had some serious allergy issues: she was dressed head-to-toe in an environmental suit. "The pilot of that ship; we're lucky her suit didn't rupture."

"Why so?" Shepard asked. "Wouldn't the suit make it more difficult to see if she's okay?"

"Normally, you'd be correct. However, you have to keep in mind: Quarians wear those suits for a reason."

"Sorry, I don't remember hearing much about quarians."

"Then I'll excuse your surprise." The doctor cleared his throat, "There isn't actually a lot to be heard about quarians: they're a dextro-amino acid-based species, so they can't eat human food."

"Like turians, right?"

"Right. They were kicked off their home world by the geth some hundred-odd years ago. And they buy ships and parts for their Migrant Fleet, which holds a galactic record for the most cooperating ships in a single mass.

"Of course, this is all just what I've read about them. Maybe we can learn more from our newest guest when she wakes up."

"Maybe…" Shepard looked over to his new roommate, nearly heartbroken at what this visitor's people had been put through. He turned back to the caretaker, "Do you need any extra hands around here?"

"Always. If you want, you can start right now."

"I'd be glad to."


	2. You Like Her, Don't You?

I think it's high time I introduced our protagonist.

John Shepard, age 28, is not yet who you remember him as. He works on a farm in the colony of Mindoir, on the fringes of the Terminus Systems. He is 5'9.5" tall with short, dark brown hair; blue-gray eyes; and a layer of stubble covering his jaw line and chin. He was placed in a med-clinic to recover from shock due to an event from the previous chapter, which I shan't repeat.

Now, where was I? Ah, right!

/-/

Shepard returned to the clinic roughly a week later, assisting any and all patients that asked of him. Over and over again, though, as he moved to-and-fro through the building, he kept checking in on the quarian. He knew she was still unconscious, and would probably be staying that way for a while, but he couldn't help it. She just looked so peaceful.

"Shepard?" The medic from yesterday, who had since introduced himself as Clint, shook Shepard from his latest trance. "Shepard!"

"Huh?"

"You zoned out again. Something wrong?"

"No," Shepard responded. "No, I'm fine. I was just checking up on our guest is all."

"Well, when you're done, you wanna join me for some coffee?"

"Sure."

/-/

"So, tell me," Clint said after a drink from his cinnamon cappuccino, "what's keeping you so distracted lately?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Shepard replied.

"Shepard, I'm twenty-seven, you're not going to slip by this so easily. Every day for the last week or so, you space-out outside the quarian's room. So, what's bugging you?"

Shepard sighed. "Fine, you got me. But to be honest, I don't know what's up."

"Is that so?"

"If there were more, I'd tell you." He took a sip of his caramel macchiato.

"Hm… I think I know your issue."

"Do you, now?"

"Yep." Clint smirked, "You like her, don't you?"

Shepard was genuinely confused. "Like who?"

"The quarian, of course!"

"…Do you hear yourself, Clint?"

"Yes, in fact. It makes so much sense; it has to be the case."

Shepard remained silent for almost a whole minute while he let this accusation sink in, before uttering forth his response: "Clint?"

"Hm?"

"You're an idiot."

/-/

When they got back to the clinic, Clint was still confident that Shepard was infatuated. "You can't deny it, Shepard."

"It's actually pretty easy to deny a false claim."

"The evidence is there, just accept it!"

"You're really not going to let this go, huh?"

"Well, persistence has always been one of my best qualities; so, no, I'm not. And I'll even _prove_ you like her."

"How so?"

They stopped outside the quarian's room, and Clint pointed to her. "When she wakes up, you're going to talk to her. If you're lying, and you like her, then you should get nervous; sweat, stuttering, the whole shebang. But, if you're telling the truth, and there's nothing there, then we should see no real reaction."

"Okay… And if I were to, say, _not_ talk to her when she wakes up?"

"Trust me, you'll talk to her…"


End file.
